Eight of Coca

I took an eight-hour textile class today, and my hands are exhausted. We started by weaving a bookmark. I was so excited when I sat down at the loom, and then I actually tried to use it. My edges wandered, I kept losing track of the pattern, and somehow I could make the simplest movement far more complicated than it needed to be. I finished the bookmark, though. It's a little crooked, but I love it.

Next we made a belt. By then, my hands were beginning to understand what I was asking them to do. I didn't have to stop quite as often. I could recognize when I had made a mistake and sometimes even knew how to fix it myself. The belt is definitely better than the bookmark.

Our last project was a small pouch, and that's the one I'm most proud of. I could feel the difference those hours had made. My hands were finding the rhythm. I was seeing the pattern differently. Things that had confused me that morning finally started making sense.

I left carrying all three pieces, and I keep looking at them together. Bookmark. Belt. Pouch. Eight hours of doing the same things over and over, getting something wrong, trying again, and slowly getting better. I'm so happy that I did this class. It helped me understand the dedication it takes to get good at textile artistry.